Captain Eagles
There were only 3 boats in the distance. The man paused, the air whipping at his face and blowing his hair back in tangled strands of frizzy brown. "Hoist the main and proceed due north." A loud chant of "Aye" ''rose up from below and the man smiled, his hands digging tighter into the rope net above him. The clinking sound of metal suggested that celebration was commencing. The man frowned, the corners of his mouth curving downward, the thin scar on his lip spiraling up towards his nostril in a mark of discontent. "No time for celebration, men. Hoist the rigging, head north, lift the sails. Get to it, ye lumbering scalawags!" The men scrambled past each other, liquid sloshing and flying through the air as tankards were dropped all around the deck and orders were frantically being followed in a mess of disheveled confusion. The man sighed, rubbing his hand over his one good eye and tying his bandana tight. Nothing could be seen through the misty fog that encumbered the view ahead of the ship in its thick haze and even the man's spyglass stretched out to its fullest extent could not make out the dark figure approaching them in a shadowy daze. "Captain, sir, an unknown approaches. We arm the cannons aft?" "Aye! Give no quarter! Man the guns, haul wind, all hands on deck, lads! Let's overhaul her! Get to it, ye piddling buffoons. What say ye?", the captain rumbled, high in spirits and full of them too. A resounding ''Aye sounded from the wooden dock, fist pumping and all. "Get to it, lads! Man the guns, haul wind, secure the cargo and hoist the mains!" Boots on wood resounded as everyone scuttled to their positions as ordered. The man raised his telescope again. He could see the ship through the smudged lens clearly now, its overcasting shadow rippling in the frothy waves below. At that moment, the turbulent waves rocking below him and tossing the ship in its dangerous course towards almost-certain death, the captain made a decision that would change his life, and that of his crew forever. "Arm up, lads. We're taking her by force." The sound of clanging metal and raucous screams of a resounding "Aye" ''erupted from all around the boat, as men chugged their drinks as fast they could. The captain was undoubtedly nervous, although he didn't show it. He checked his compass, once, twice, three times. "Captain, you've checked that about 4 times. Are you doing alright there?" The captain looked up at the scarred face of his first mate, Smith, with a vehement, untested curiosity. "Don't worry about me. Are the men ready fer battle?" Smith gave a curt nod. "I haven't heard the sound of pounding metal on metal, almost as long as I've gone without the bitter taste of salt in my mouth or the whiff of damp wood. I'll be damned if I let that freedom go. Tonight, we fight for the code." "Aye, captain. Fight for the code." Swords in leather sheaths and the undeniable dread of anticipation and excitement washed over the men's faces in liquid courage that dripped off their beards, the captain turned to the crew. "There will be death tonight. Many of you will not make it through to see yonder morn. If that be scaring any of ye, I suggest ye hop o'er the side of the boat and try swimmin' to the nearest land. If all of ye are the fearless, brave lads I be meeting my first day upon this godforsaken vessel, I know ye don't turn back from a fight and that ain't changing now. Prepare for battle, men. Tonight, we fight fer us." The shadow of a boat in the distance approached. "For the cause. For the crew. For our way of life." The boat wasn't even docked yet before the men scuttled up the side of the rope rigging and leapt down onto the wooden floorboards like ninjas in rag-tag clothing. The sound of clanking metal was heard almost immediately as the men took pot-shots at vital organs that were sure to cause imminent death. The captain himself joined in the battle, picking a fight immediately with two crewmen of the other boat who closely resembled that of rats who had their faces drenched with water. He struck first, sword thrusted low towards the rat's abdomen. The blow was parried by the hilt of the enemy sword and the captain drew his sword high, only to be parried again. The rat took his turn, bringing his sword down in an attempt to behead the poor captain, but his sword was met upwards by the captain's saber, and a series of rapid blows at chest level ensued. Block, parry, block, parry, spin, block, parry. The endless cycle of violent repetition continued, their arms dragging under the weight of their weapons. Finally, the captain was able to disarm the rat, sword skidding with a ''clank clank clank across the wooden floorboards to the side of the boat. Sword pointed at the rat on the ground, the man raised an eyebrow. The outcome of this situation was clear. At that moment, a loud ''thud ''was heard. Eagles opened his eyes, shocked that his imminent death hadn't come yet. A shadowing figure stood over him, his face blocked by the darkness overcast by the setting sun. Shocked, unable to move for the longest time, Eagles stood there, unable to move, staring up at his savior, the ominous figure above him. And, with a blink of the eye, the shadow had vanished, leaving a very alive captain lying on the deck with arising questions about the stranger's intentions. The satisfaction of the day's events came when one of his questions was answered, a breadcrumb on the trail of discovery to who this stranger could be, even if the clue was as insignificant as it was. Eagles picked it up, twirling it within his roughened fingers. A joint, recently used, ash spilling over the side of the paper and dispersing onto his fingertips. His only clue to the identity of the mysterious stranger, a recently used cigarette. And then, splinters of wood erupted around him in bouts of combustible destruction as ropes and riggings flew this and that way in tune with the violent shuddering of the ship. The captain hurtled down to the end of the deck, watching flames snake their way across the wooden planks of the ship, climbing their way up the mast and incinerating the flag of the Pirate Code, his symbol of honor, what he had been living for his entire life; his mission, his purpose, his destiny. And again. A second explosion sent dozens of men hurtling in the air and out to the chortling waves below. Without a second thought, the captain launched himself over the bow and into the freezing waves below. He watched in disbelief as his pride and prize for so many years abound the turbulent waves of the Pacific Ocean had erupted in a smoldering wreckage of salty wood. Breathing heavily in an attempt to regain his composure, once. Twice. Three times. His name was Captain Eagles, and as the situation appeared, he was very much alive. And it was then the darkness consumed him whole.